


A Time to Spend with Loved Ones

by orphan_account



Series: Sheriarty Christmas Oneshots [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, M/M, Mourning, Snow, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Christmas was a time to spend with loved ones.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is part two of a Sheriarty Advent/Christmas thing I'm doing, which involves me writing a short oneshot every day about a different prompt (a list of prompts can be found on my tumblr, Mistocho). 
> 
> Sorry this is quite short and that I took a while getting this out, but I had lots of schoolwork. I will manage to post one for each day though, even if they aren't on the day meant for release.
> 
> Prompt: Snow and Angst

The sky was dark, the moon shrouded by a veil of clouds. He walked through the icy streets, lights flashing on the houses surrounding him, coat flapping behind him. It was the 25th of December, Christmas day, and though it was may have been late, he could still hear raucous laughter and cheerful singing. Their happiness was evident, but he felt none of it. Instead there was all consuming sadness, drowning his heart. He did this last Christmas, and now he did it again. He expected it would become a ritual as the years went on.

Christmas was a time to spend with loved ones, and he had loved Jim more than anything.

He had reached his destination. Snowflakes floated down on the light breeze, softly brushing him. Those that landed on his face melted to join the hot tears that had begun to leak from his eyes. He put down the bouquet of white lilies he had been holding, leaning them against the dark, glossy stone. It read ‘Jim M’ in golden letter, simplistic and brief. 

He ran his finger over the letters gently, like the caress of a lover. A quiet, choked sob escaped him before he turned away from the grave. _He was dead. He was dead. He would never love you even if he was alive._

Across the graveyard, another man stood at another grave. He went there often, leaving crimson roses behind. They were the colour of blood; blood spilled by his own actions. It was the blood which had flowed freely from Sherlock, a fallen angel, as he hit the ground. He had expected the detective to have a plan; he had expected the game would continue on, with them forever dancing together through intricate puzzles… but no. 

Christmas was a time to spend with loves ones, and he had loved Sherlock more than anything.

He too ran his fingers over the simplistic letters on a simplistic grave. ‘Sherlock Holmes’ it read. _He was dead. He was dead. He would never love you even if he was alive. _Both men turned from the graves they stood at and walked from them into the dull world, before lit up by the brightness of the other.__

__Christmas was a time to spend with loves ones, and they had loved each other more than anything._ _

__Neither knew it, though._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Did you enjoy it? Please leave kudos or comment below and give feedback!
> 
> Have a nice day.


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